


From the Ashes

by Snapes_Godess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 20:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21151409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapes_Godess/pseuds/Snapes_Godess
Summary: Trauma affects everyone differently,and healing can be found in the most unlikely of places.Lucius and Hermione have a violent, tumultuous past that connects them. Both have had their fair share of hurt and heartache.  But can redemption be found?  Can their wounds be healed?An unlikely love story where enemies find common ground and a love to overcome all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This Harry Potter story is a work of fanfiction. I have no legal rights to the Harry Potter characters and no money is made from the sharing of this story.
> 
> **This story is a work of fan-fiction, I do not have any legal rights to Harry Potter the books or films. The author has no rights to the characters or world and makes no money from the sharing of this fic. 
> 
> Forgive me, this is the first multi-chapter story I have written in a very long time! I’m a bit rusty!—SG
> 
> PS Forgive the errors and typos...perfection is never as important to me as telling the story.

Prologue__ 

There was a distinct chill in the air that bespoke of fall’s end as Lilith crossed the great hall of her family’s ancestral home. She could see that the ornate French doors were flung wide allowing the icy wind to come inside along with the colorful autumn leaves that had fallen from the trees.

In the opening was her grandmother, Hermione. 

“Nana, it’s far too cold for you to be sitting here, come inside,” Lilith said as she grasped the handles of the wheelchair and pulled her grandmother back inside. 

With a flick of her wand the doors closed, and a fire crackled to life in the hearth as she situated the chair close to the warming flames. 

“Why were you sitting there with the door open, you’ll catch your death!” she chastised gently as she tucked a woolen blanket around her grandmother’s legs. 

“Death has had plenty of chances to catch me and he hasn’t managed yet,” the older woman laughed. “What have you been up to today, Lilith?”

“I was digging through a box of old photographs,” Lilith said as she reached into the back pocket of her jeans and withdrew a small stack of weathered photos. “I found these. Are they Uncle Draco?” she asked.

Lilith watched as delicate fingers, the joints slightly swollen with age and arthritis, lightly stroked the stoic face of the man in the photographs. 

“Oh no, dear,” the woman said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is not Draco, this is your grandfather, Lucius, back when I first met him.”

“He was handsome,” Lilith said as she knelt beside her grandmother to look more closely at the man in the photo. 

“And arrogant,” her grandmother chuckled softly. “I had forgotten how he looked back then, before…” She went silent, a sad expression crossing her face.

“How did you meet?” Lilith asked. “I never heard the story, Mama always said that you and granddad had a story too complicated to tell and not appropriate for young ears.”

“Complicated is one word for it,” the older woman laughed softly. “We should have never been...your grandfather and me. What we had defied all odds. It defied all reason. To this day I am still unsure of how we came to love one another so intensely...but love we did. As for young ears…well, it may be hard to believe but passionate affairs aren’t new.” 

“Nana...will you tell me the story?” Lilith asked quietly as she made herself comfortable at her grandmother’s feet.

“I was twelve years old the first time I met your grandfather….I hated him on sight. For seven years we fought, bickered...he even tried to kill me a time or two during the war,” Hermione began, shaking her head with a sad smile. “I was thirty-four when we ‘met’ again, so much had changed…”


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER ONE

“Ugh, why me?” Hermione muttered as she appeared at the end of a long, pebbled walk. She eyed the winding pathway that lead up the side of a hill to a rather large hedge-maze.

Beyond the neatly trimmed hedges she knew she would find an ornate wrought iron gate that lead to the elegant manor house and expansive estate. 

It was hot. 

The summer heat had made the air so thick that it was almost nauseating to breathe. Just standing on the edge of the property had her thin summer dress clinging to her body as a layer of perspiration formed on her skin. 

Closing her eyes, she tuned in to the property and heard the low hum of the wards. She was going to have to walk the entire way up the side of the hill to the gate. 

With a weary sigh she reached up and twisted her wild mane of curls into a bun, tucking it under to secure it off of her neck as she began the tedious climb. 

The sun was relentless, and the humidity made the misery of the heat even worse. Sweat ran in itchy rivulets down her back and along her neck, compounding her discomfort and irritation as she climbed. 

It was with sweet relief that she entered the mildly cooler shade of the hedge-maze.

As she wound her way through the foliage towards the gate she noted that they were not as well tended as she recalled. 

In fact, it struck her that as she looked around she saw no persons or creatures tending to the property at all, when once upon a time there would have been a small army of caretakers. 

As she reached the end she sat on one of the stone benches and stared up at the house. 

How different it looked since the last time she had been there.

The large Manor house with its towers and turrets had once elicited nothing but fear in her. The memories of what had happened to her within those walls still disturbed her sleep on occasion.

But now she felt a strange sense of sadness as she looked upon the house. 

One of the towers was now a burnt shell left standing in ruin after fiend-fyre had destroyed part of the house. 

She had heard that it was arson, revenge against the family for the atrocities committed during the war. 

Draco and his young family lived elsewhere so they were unharmed by the crime. 

But Lucius and Narcissa were not so lucky. 

Narcissa had become trapped in one of the rooms, sustaining severe burns over much of her body. 

It was told that Lucius also suffered severe burns trying to save her, though the extent was unverified as he had rarely been seen since. 

Unfortunately, the cursed nature of the burns mean that the scars they leave can never be repaired or removed.

Narcissa contracted an infection and in her weakened state she succumbed to it a few weeks following the incident. 

Lucius, she was told, was scarred, angry, and refused to be seen in public. He had been seen by very few over the last decade. 

He ran his businesses through a steward or his son and stayed out of sight within his home. 

Rumor said that he had left the tower un-repaired on purpose, to remind him, lest he forget the cost of his actions. 

Hermione had been trying to connect with him for over a year. 

Households that used the services of magical creatures or maintained livestock were required to submit to a basic welfare check every 10 years to ensure the safety, care and wellbeing of the creatures. Of course, Hermione wanted it to be more frequent but changing the minds and ways of the magical community was something best done slowly, lest another tyrant rise up in protest.

Malfoy Manor was in arrears. 

Draco had attempted to assist her, but since he is not the owner of the property he could not sign off. 

It had to be Lucius, and he just would not reply to her. She had sent owls, howlers, and had even attempted a floo call! 

No response.

That is how she ended up sitting on a bench, sweating profusely, and staring at his house. 

“No visitors!” Hermione jumped at the loud voice that boomed around her. She recognized his voice, Lucius knew she was there. 

“I’m not leaving,” she said firmly. “I have to do the welfare check, Mr. Malfoy, or they will send the aurors.” 

“Is that supposed to scare me into letting you into my house?” 

“No, it’s just a fact. I MUST do the inspection and I have to speak with you per the law. It doesn’t have to be difficult, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I don’t wish to see anyone, why can’t Draco take care of this?”

“Because he doesn’t own the property,” she responded as she got to her feet. She put her hands on her hips and stared up at the house. “I don’t particularly want to meet with you either! But it’s my JOB!”

“Bloody ministry and their meddling!” she heard him mutter. “An hour and no more!” he stated before the gate slowly creaked open. 

With absolutely no enthusiasm Hermione crossed the gate, startling when it slammed closed behind her. 

She made her way up the walk to the large wooden door that swung open and revealed a small female elf.

“Good day, Missy, I am Zoe, please come in,” she said in a high-pitched voice as she stepped aside. “Master Malfoy is in his study, this way,” she said as she led the way.

Hermione shuddered as they passed the large parlor where she had once endured the torture of a deranged witch. 

She pushed the memory aside and followed the elf down the long hall to a large set of double doors at the end. 

The elf gently pushed the door open but did not enter, she merely gestured for Hermione to go inside. 

It was dim inside the large study, the curtains had only been partially drawn, illuminating only a portion of the room. 

The other section, where the large glossy desk was positioned, remained barely lit. 

In the dim light Hermione could see Lucius seated behind the desk leaning back in his chair and watching her. 

“Did you come to see the beast?” he asked, watching her closely. 

“I came on business as you know since you have been purposefully ignoring my attempts to reach you for the past year,” she said as she moved closer to the desk. “But I won’t insult you by lying...I am curious.”

“Yes, well, I find that I do not like being around other people nor do I like being the object of their curiosity. I cannot abide the stares and chatter,” he said. “I did not want to meet with you, Ms. Granger, but I should have known you would have found a means to get your way.”

“I have no choice, it’s the law. No one is above it,” she said as she slowly lowered herself into a cushioned chair opposite him. “Not even you.”

“This I know all too well,” he said softly. “What do you want?”

“I need to do an inspection of your property. I need to see where your servants stay, record of their care and I need to see their physical condition to ensure they are healthy and well. I will also have to see any livestock that you keep on the property, their accommodations and records of care.”

“Fine, you may have full access to the property and all creatures that reside within. You will find that few remain now. I will have my steward prepare the records,” he said sharply. 

“I’m afraid that you must be the one to show me, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, “as the owner of Malfoy Manor the law requires that you be the one to show me the facilities and that you be present when I verify the records.”

Something in her tightened as she heard him sigh. 

She understood well enough that he didn’t want to meet with her, that he wanted no one to see him in his current state--whatever that was. 

“Well then, I suppose we should get started.” He said softly as he stood and reached for his walking stick. 

As he stepped around the desk, a slight limp hindering his stride, and into the light Hermione braced herself for what she would see, only to frown in confusion when she noticed that his hair shielded most of his face. 

Only a thin white line of a scar was revealed as it bisected the brow on the right side of his face.   
“This way,” he said, pointing her in the direction of the door. 

He led her through the house, back towards the large parlor she had passed earlier and down a familiar flight of stairs that led to the cellars. As they descended the lights beyond the iron door illuminated to reveal a dormitory of sorts with several beds. 

“This is where Zoe and Max live. They tend to the house, meals and laundry. The others were freed or transferred to the property where Draco lives with his family.”

Hermione looked around and made her notes. While not lavish there were sufficient beds, chests, washrooms and water-closets available for use. 

“I thought this was your dungeon…if memory serves,” she said, trying hard to see his face in the dim light. He was keeping himself to the shadows on purpose. 

“What need do I have of dungeons, Ms. Granger?” he asked solemnly before turning on his heel and passing once more through the iron door towards the stairs.

Satisfied she followed Lucius back up the stairs and down another corridor to a set of rooms. 

“This is where my steward lives. These rooms once housed my valet and a lady’s maid...both were released of their contracts years ago.”

Again, she perused the rooms and made her notes. She turned to Lucius and again felt that tug low in her belly. 

“Mr. Malfoy…”

“Lucius will be fine,” he said curtly, “follow me and I will take you to the stables.” He spun quickly on his heel and headed towards the back of the house. 

She had wanted to express her condolences, to acknowledge the elephant in the room but he was so quick to move on that she couldn’t broach the subject.

She could feel his desire to get out of the situation, to retreat to his solitude.

It angered her. 

She stopped suddenly at the large glass doors that led to the back veranda of the house, her mind racing and spiraling as emotions warred. As she stared at his back she was overcome. 

This shell of Lucius was not right. 

This resigned, morose…victim...was not right. 

She thought about all the times in her youth when she had longed to see the Malfoys brought to their knees, all the times she had wanted revenge on them for turning away while Bellatrix tortured her. 

Those thoughts had fired her soul, kept her fighting, kept her moving forward during and after the war...but the reality of it brought her no peace. 

Seeing the proud wizard that had once been able to cut a person to shreds with just his words brought so low was...wrong. 

“Why did you let me in?” she blurted out suddenly. 

Lucius stopped but did not turn to face her. 

“What choice do I have? I let you--a single witch--in to do your infernal welfare check or I risk dozens of aurors crawling all over my property. It is simply the choice between the lesser of two evils,” he said. 

“You hate me, yet you are being kind and cooperative,” she goaded. She was being immature, she was knowingly trying to pick a fight. 

“Hatred is a strong emotion, Ms. Granger. I no longer feel emotion,” he said.

Those words were like taking a blow to the stomach for Hermione.

“Shall we finish this?” He didn’t wait for a response before heading across the veranda to the stairs and across the wide expanse of his back lawn.

Hermione moved quickly to catch up, thankful that his property boasted lots of trees and the house itself provided a great deal of shade in the afternoon sun. 

By the time they had reached the stables she was yet again a wet and sweaty mess.

“You look terrible,” he said as he eyed her carefully. 

“In case you haven’t noticed it’s hot as hell,” she muttered as she wiped her brow.

“This heat is nothing, I’ve felt worse,” he said solemnly as he stepped into the cool interior of the stable. 

Hermione instantly felt guilty for her careless comment. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“For what?”

“For my thoughtless comment. For your loss. For your pain.”

“Did you set the fire?” he asked.

“No... but I can still feel empathy for you.”

“There is no need to apologize then,” he said. “I have sold off most of my animals over the years. I keep a couple of horses, thestrals and a few hounds. There is a game keeper’s cottage on the south end, his name is Charles, he’s a squib but you may check his welfare as well if required. I warn you though, he is Argus Filch’s older brother and not nearly as polite as the younger. There is a paddock and a couple of open pastures that once were filled with sheep.”

“This stable is quite luxurious,” she said, making notations on her parchment. 

“I once owned a thriving breeding stock,” he said, a tinge of wistful sadness in his voice. “People paid exorbitant amounts of galleons for my horses. They were flawless,” he said with no small amount of pride. “Stunning Akhal-Tekes in silver and gold and deep, rich colors…just perfect.”

“Why did you stop breeding them?” she asked, wondering why anyone would give up something that gave them so much pleasure.

“Well that isn’t really relevant here, is it?” He dismissed her question quickly and walked through the stable towards the back entrance. “There is a lake on the property as well as an owlery. They are just there on the Eastern border.” 

“The lake stock and the owls do not fall under my jurisdiction, just magical creatures,” she said. “What exactly makes an Akhal-Teke different from any other horse?” She asked curiously, returning him to the topic of the horses.

Lucius stopped but he did not turn around, his head turned toward her slightly over his shoulder. 

“Would you like to see?” He asked. “I have a few remaining.” 

“Yes, I would,” she said, actually smiling, “please.”


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER TWO

Lucius wasn’t certain what prompted him to show Hermione his horses, but there he was leading her down to the occupied wing of his stable. 

At the end there were six stalls containing the last of the rare beauties that had once filled his stable from end to end. 

He heard her catch her breath upon approach and briefly felt the old, familiar tug of pride lift the corner of his mouth in a semi smile/smirk.

“Do you understand now what makes them special?” he asked as he stopped in front of the first stall. 

Its occupant, a fully-grown stallion the color of ink, pushed his head through the opening to nudge Lucius’s shoulder. She heard Lucius chuckle softly as he reached up and scratched the beautiful animal behind his ears.

“Hello, Kingsman,” he said softly. “How are you, old friend?” 

Hermione was mesmerized by the interaction between wizard and horse. Within moments five more gleaming heads popped through the stall doors and began neighing, vying for their master’s attention.

“Incredible…” Hermione said, awestruck as she walked slowly along the corridor. Lucius moved from stall to stall and greeted each animal with a hello and a scratch. 

Each animal was of a different shade: Ebony, Mahogany, Silver, Buckskin/gold, Sable, and at the very end waited a young horse of the most beautiful platinum she had ever seen. Their coats gleamed with an iridescent shine that went beyond just being healthy and well groomed. They seemed to actually glow in the dim stable light. 

“Kingsman is my personal mount as well as my most prolific stud,” he said. “Majesty(Silver), Duchess(Buckskin/Gold), and Cossette(Sable) are his girls.” She watched him reach into his pocket and withdraw small carrots that he fed to each horse. “Sentinel (Mahogany) is the oldest of my stock, he is the sire for Cossette. And this one,” he said with laughter in his tone as he neared the last stall, “this is Arthur. He is the youngest and the last horse that I bred. He was a surprise…Kingsman kicked open his stall when Majesty was in the paddock and this beautiful, yet willful boy was the result.” 

Hermione stepped closer and reached up to stroke the young stallion’s nose. He pushed against her greedily seeking more of her attention, turning his head to lick the inside of her arm before pushing his muzzle into her chest.

“Oh!” she cried out softly, rocked on her feet slightly by the exuberant young horse.

“See what I mean?” Lucius said as he pushed the horse back, chiding him gently. “He is stubborn and does as he pleases!” He laughed, running his fingers through the glittering platinum mane. “He would be a magnificent stud…his progeny would be coveted worldwide,” he said quietly. 

“Then why not breed him?” she asked. “You were correct, they are magnificent!”

“It is not so simple,” he said. “I did not allow my horses to be bought by anyone who had the coin to do so. They went only to the finest homes with the finest stables and the highest quality stable-masters. They left my stables in the best possible health, broken to saddle and bridle, trained to be shown. I personally signed off on each animal, personally reviewed and approved each purchase. Though lucrative, the sale of my animals was not a business venture. It was a passion. I do not trust anyone to make those decisions about my animals and I can no longer provide the attention it requires.”

“Lucius…”

Suddenly there was a loud crack and lightening streaked the sky. Hermione jumped, dropping the quill she had been using earlier to take notes.

“It’s heat lightening,” Lucius said, looking through the open doors at the end of the stable to the horizon where a wall of dark clouds was closing in. “It looks as if a storm is coming.”

“Finally, something to break this heat,” she said.

“It’s moving quickly, we should go inside,” he said as he gestured back towards the house with his walking stick. “The records you need to review should be waiting for us.”

“We should apparate,” she said, her brow furrowing as they moved to the open doors and watched the clouds rolling in the sky.

“Are you daft?” Lucius asked, incredulously. “Surely you know better than to cast such magic during a storm! If we apparate while the lightning strikes it will be drawn with us, killing us both and destroying my house!”

“The house is too far to run to,” she said, gesturing towards the house up the hill as if he wasn’t aware how far it was. “Is there a floo in here?” 

“Who has a floo in their stable? Can you imagine a worse fire hazard than a wood filled stable full of hay and an open blaze? ” He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath of the cooling air just as a wall of rain began to fall. “We will just have to wait it out. It looks like it will be one of those storms that comes through in short bursts.”

“When did you become a weather expert?” Hermione snapped as she stared out at the sheets of rain that had begun to fall. 

“When one never leaves their house they have little to do aside from read,” he said softly. “I find that circumstances have made me an expert in many things.”

“Why don’t you leave your house, Lucius?” she asked softly. “No one blames you, the fire wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh, it was my fault alright. Mayhap not directly, but indirectly it was most certainly my fault,” he answered.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three

The air was thick with more than just the angry storm raging outside. His grief, his guilt, it poured off him and Hermione felt it to her core. 

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, does it?” she asked softly as she stood in the open stable door and watched the rain and the lightening.

“No, some wounds never heal.” 

He said it so definitively, so sure of the sentiment that Hermione had no words. She knew that nothing she said would comfort him, nothing would ease his pain, so she remained silent. 

The wind began to pick up and the thunder and lightning intensified. Hermione turned her attention to Lucius’s profile and her breath caught when the wind lifted his hair and she could see his face clearly for the first time.

From the corner of his left eye, following his hairline she could see the twisted pink and white scar from his burns. It left his ear miss-shaped and his hairline uneven. The tight, twisted scars ran along his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. 

How far did they go?

Did they hurt?

Before she could stop herself, Hermione reached out to him. 

Lucius caught her wrist in his hand just before she made contact, turning his head to meet her gaze head on. He was angry, his silver eyes flashing but there was something else there in his eyes, something she didn’t recognize.

“How dare you,” he said fiercely with his teeth clenched. 

But Hermione was not afraid, she felt no fear at his anger. His grip on her wrist was firm, almost painful and come morning she would likely have a bruise, but she didn’t care. Carefully she unfurled her fingers, her wrist still firmly in his grasp. 

As her fingertips lightly brushed the edge of his scar she prayed for his pain to ease.   
Lucius was still breathing heavily, but he eased his grip and let her touch his face. 

He was embarrassed, humiliated and ashamed, but it had been so long since anyone had touched him. 

Since a woman had touched him without money changing hands. 

It felt so good. It was soothing to feel the softness of her fingertips against his skin, as if she were healing him with the power of her touch alone. 

“Does it hurt?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No, not anymore,” he answered. “Are you…disgusted?”

“No…Lucius?” 

It was as if the lightning had struck them both. In an instant Lucius pushed her back towards the wooden door frame and he covered her lips with his own. The hand that once held her wrist captive let go and cupped the side of her neck, his thumb tilting her chin upwards to better receive his kiss. 

Hermione caressed the side of his face, the puckered scars rough against her palm. Her other hand grasped his shoulder as he pressed against her. 

Not an inch of space was between them, yet they couldn’t get close enough as their lips danced over each other. He slipped his tongue between her lips and growled when she suckled gently. 

Neither paid attention when his walking stick clattered to the floor. His newly freed hand slid along her side and around her hip to clasp her bottom and lift her against him. She complied, following his lead and wrapping her legs around him as he spun her from the door and over to the neatly stacked bales of hay. 

He pulled his lips from hers long enough to reach for a saddle blanket that he tossed over the bales before settling her atop of them and reaching for the buttons on the front of her dress.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked hoarsely as made quick work sliding them through their holes.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly as he tugged the lace cup of her bra aside and captured the ruddy tip of her breast between his lips. “Oh!” She wriggled against the blanket, reaching beneath her skirt to remove her underwear on her own. 

They separated long enough for her to cast the lacy bit of knickers to the floor, then Lucius was once again between her splayed legs and working to uncover her breasts completely. While Lucius was busy with her breasts Hermione’s hands were equally as busy between their bodies unbuttoning Lucius’s shirt and releasing the fall of his trousers. 

Their past, his scars, her job, his misery…all of it was forgotten as their bodies came together. 

Both Hermione and Lucius groaned as he slid inside her. She was wet, hot and snug as he penetrated her willing and eager body. Her thighs clasped tightly around his hips as she leaned back, supporting her weight on her arms. 

It was crazy how they were coming together, how she knew they must look with her dress undone and her bra tucked beneath her breasts, Lucius with his shirt open and his trousers and smalls down around his knees. 

But it was amazing how good it felt to have him inside her, thrusting, rolling his hips against hers. And the way he looked at her, the hunger in his eyes as he watched her breasts bouncing with every thrust. This was what she was missing in her life, this was passion in its purest, most raw form. 

She could tell by the look on his face that he was close, this wasn’t going to be a long encounter. She began moving with him, pushing her hips forwards with every thrust. She felt the tightening begin low in her belly, that pulsing that grew and grew until finally she felt it, the snap of release that moved through her. 

As the shockwaves rolled over her she reared up, wrapping her arms tight around Lucius’s shoulders. 

A few more thrusts and he stiffened, pushing deep inside her as he spilled his seed. He held her tight, his face buried in the side of her neck as weakness overtook him. Something akin to gratitude had him clutching her tightly to him even after his erection had ebbed and he and slipped from her body. 

“I think the storm is over,” she whispered softly against his ear.

“Right,” he said, still holding her. “Hold on tight!”


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FOUR

The first burst of the storm had past and there was a reprieve as the next rolled in. Lucius and Hermione returned to the house and showered the smell of sweat, sex and hay from their bodies. The cool water sluicing over them in the oversized shower had led to yet another quick yet very passionate tryst that left them both exhausted.   
They lay naked across his ridiculously large bed: Hermione on her stomach and Lucius on his back staring aimlessly at the ceiling above his bed.   
“Why did you sleep with me?” Lucius asked softly.   
“Why did you sleep with me?” Hermione responded, her voice low and sleepy.  
“I’m being serious, Hermione,” he said as he turned his head to look at her. “Was it pity? Is that why you let me touch you?”  
“I’m not in the habit of handing out pity shags, Lucius,” she replied. She smiled softly at him and reached out to gently run her finger along his lips. “I had sex with you because I wanted to. No other reason.”  
“But why did you want to?” he pressed. “I had been unbearably rude to you today…actually, I have been unbearably rude to you every time we have ever met.”  
“I think you mean villainous,” she chuckled, “Tis more accurate than rude when discussing our past encounters.”  
“I have nothing to commend me character wise and my physical appearance certainly is not the sort of visage that sends a young lady’s heart a flutter—not any longer.” Pain laced his voice as he spoke. He felt vulnerable and perhaps even a little afraid. He wanted reassurance from her. “If it wasn’t pity, then what was it?”  
“Does it have to be dissected?” she asked. He said nothing, just continued to stare at her expectantly.   
“Fine,” she sighed as she pushed up on her elbows and looked at him. “I did not sleep with you because I felt sorry for you, Lucius. I slept with you because I wanted you. Yes, you were rude and snotty, but it was exactly what I expected from you because it is how you have always been.”  
“Rude and snotty? Irresistible qualities in lover for sure,” he said with sarcasm.  
“But there was something different in you. Something that seems…I don’t know…wrong,” she said, her brow furrowing as she searched her thoughts for the best way to explain it. “I didn’t come here expecting you to be polite, welcoming, or happy to see me at your door. I had a fully formed notion of who you were in my head based on years of experiences to draw from. I had expectations of what I would encounter when I arrived.”  
“So, you are a glutton for punishment then?” he asked, unsure if he should be offended or not.  
“No. I didn’t expect to find you so…”  
“Damaged?” he offered.  
“Broken,” she said. “I did not expect to find you so broken. To find your arrogance tempered by…low self-esteem, well…it was a bit of a surprise. Humility was something I never thought to see on you.”  
“You mean humiliation, I think,” he said as he reached up to cover the side of his face that was damaged.   
“I know what I meant,” she said. “The look on your face when you showed me your horses…you were happy, and I found myself mesmerized by the pure joy in your eyes as you spoke of them. When the wind blew your hair back I didn’t think about what I was doing, I just wanted to touch you. I wanted to take away some of the pain that you carry.”  
“If anyone were to find out that you shared your body with me…”  
“Ugh,” she groaned as she closed her eyes and shook her head. “If there is one thing I do not care about anymore it is what anyone else thinks. Whom I choose to share my body with is no one’s business. I do what I want. I make choices for myself, and no one has the right to say a damned word. I am tired of other’s expectations of who I am!”  
“So, when you look at me…you aren’t horrified by what you see?”   
“When I look at you I see a man who has darkness in him. I see a man who is capable of and guilty of many, many sins,” she said as she slid closer to him. “But I also see a man who is filled with pain. I see a man who carries the burden of guilt for something that is not his fault. I see a man who is shamed by the scars on his body as well as the scars on his soul. I see a man who is passionate, who has gentleness in him though he chooses to hide it behind pretentiousness.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. “I slept with you, Lucius, because I see you. And I wanted what I saw. Enough?”  
“Enough,” he said, his heart warmed by her words.   
“Now why did you sleep with me?” she demanded.   
Lucius adjusted himself on the bed, fluffing the pillow beneath his head with one hand while he lightly scratched his stomach with the other.   
“I suppose there are the obvious reasons,” he began.   
“Such as?”  
“Welll, you let me…that’s probably the first reason.”  
“Very funny,” Hermione snorted as she poked him in the side.   
“I wanted you,” he said softly, as he stared up at the ceiling. “I still want you and I am not sure that I understand how we went from staring at the storm to copulating in front of my horses.”  
“You wanted to throttle me I think,” she said smiling, “but then you kissed me instead.”  
“No, I wasn’t angry so much as I was…surprised. You touched me, you didn’t recoil when you saw my scars, you just reached out and you touched me,” he said, his voice tinged with awe. “No one has touched me…touched my face…its been a very long time.”  
“I don’t believe you have been going without sex for a decade,” Hermione said, watching his face.  
“There is a big difference between paying a woman to have sex with you in a darkened room and having someone see you, see your deformity and still reach out to touch you. For the first time in a very long time I felt human.” His brow furrowed and he inhaled deeply. “My gods, I sound pathetic!”  
Hermione smiled and pushed up onto her hands and knees, slowly crawling towards him.  
“You are anything but pathetic,” she said softly as she moved to straddle him. She sat up straight and tossed her hair back over her shoulders, arching her back slightly. She reveled in is response, the way his eyes focused on her, how his lids lowered, how his hands came up to caress the curve of her waist.   
She could feel him begin to harden beneath her and she shivered as need once more began to course through her. What was happening between them made no sense at all, it seemingly violated every law of nature yet she was incapable of ending it, of leaving the little world they had created for themselves.   
“And Lucius, you are not deformed,” she said softly as she caressed the scar that traveled along his right shoulder and the upper part of his ribcage. “Your scars are barely noticeable beneath your clothes and your hair.”  
“I know they are there, and I know that people are looking for them,” he said. “It’s humiliating.” He slid his hands upwards and cupped her breasts.  
“Your hands aren’t scarred,” Hermione observed.  
“I was wearing dragonhide gloves…I had been outside with my horses when I saw the flames. My cloak caught fire, then my shirt. My hands were protected.”  
“I think you are still very handsome,” she said as she slid her hips back. “Let me show you.”


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER FIVE

“Let me show you.”  
Hermione wriggled against the seat of her chair. She should be focusing on her work but all she could think about was the weekend.  
She had spent an entire weekend in bed with Lucius Malfoy.  
She still couldn’t believe it. What had come over her? She wasn’t exactly a prude, but the freedom she had felt with him, so comfortable in her own skin—she had never felt that way before.   
“What is that?”   
Hermione startled at the intrusive voice. Harry was standing in the doorway to her office looking at her quizzically.   
“What?” she asked, confused by his question.   
“You. You’re flushed and happy, I haven’t seen you look like this in a long time,” he said as he sat on the corner of her desk.  
“I had a nice weekend is all,” she muttered.  
“Good, you deserve it,” he smiled and reached for her hand, giving it a light squeeze. “You’ll tell me about it when you are ready. We missed you this weekend.”  
“Oh, Harry! I am so sorry, I totally forgot!” She had completely spaced the Barbeque to celebrate their new house.  
“Its no big deal, we got rained out anyhow. You can come by one night this week for dinner and check out the new place,” he said. “How did things go on Friday? I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.”  
Hermione felt the flush in her face deepen as scenes from her erotically charged weekend flashed through her mind.   
“Oh, well, that was…fine,” she managed.  
“It was fine?” Harry looked at her with a puzzled expression. “Fine?”  
“Um, well yes. It was hot, like crazy hot.”  
“It was hot?”  
“You know, the temperature…and then there all these wards so I had to walk up that hill through the hedge maze—did you know he released most of his servants?” she began to fidget with the things on her desk nervously. “And he hasn’t repaired the fire damage to his house.”  
“I had heard something to that effect,” Harry said, watching her curiously.  
“He didn’t want to let me in, but he finally acquiesced. He reluctantly showed me around, I was able to finish the inspection and finally close the file,” she said. “Did you know that he bred horses?”  
“No, I can’t say that I did.” Harry was an expert at reading people, he knew something was up but he also knew Hermione. She would tell him nothing until she was damned good and ready.  
“Beautiful horses, a special breed. He still has a few. Stunningly beautiful and unique…” she was interrupted by a small female elf who cleared her throat at the door.  
“Delivery for Ms. Granger,” she said in a high-pitched voice. In her arms was a large bouquet of silver-gray roses in a crystal vase.   
“Oh…um…put them there on the shelf,” Hermione said as she stood and walked to where the flowers stood.   
“Wow, those are unusual…and beautiful,” Harry said, admiring the unique color of the arrangement.  
“I’ve never seen anything like them,” Hermione said softly as she reached for the card. 

“Rare beauties for a rare beauty…”  
-L-  
Hermione quickly tucked the card back into the envelope and slid it into the pocket of her skirt.   
“Admirer?” Harry queried  
“Just someone who wanted to express their gratitude,” she said.   
“You must have really gone above and beyond for a gift like that,” Harry said as he stood. “I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you were alright. I’ve got interrogations to complete!”   
“Thank you for checking in, please tell Ginny that I am sorry and I will be by later in the week to see the new house,” she said.  
“Will do,” Harry leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “See you later!”  
Hermione felt somewhat guilty for the wave of relief that washed over her when Harry left. She loved him, but he wouldn’t understand.   
If she was being honest, she just didn’t want to explain why Lucius Malfoy would be sending her such extravagant flowers.  
Her weekend was her secret and she intended to keep it for herself. 

The remainder of the day dragged on with excruciatingly mundane tasks that did little to stimulate the mind.   
“Guess everything can’t be as exciting as shagging a death eater!” Hermione muttered to herself as she packed up her things and locked her office door. Her day had not exactly been productive. Her mind had drifted back in time to the weekend more than she liked.  
The sweet aching between her thighs also served as a reminder of her wanton weekend, further pushing her back down that rabbit hole of memory. He had filled her senses all weekend and it was difficult to get him out of her system.   
But she would, because nothing good would ever come of their tryst.  
She exited the Ministry of Magic via the floo network, exiting in the back room of a small pub near her flat. She smiled and nodded at the squib bartender as she passed through and out onto the street.  
She was glad for the walk, the physical exercise was helping to burn off that “edgy” feeling she had been having all day.   
She covered the few blocks to her flat at a quick pace, using the stairs as opposed to the lift to get to her fifth-floor abode.   
“You’re home early.”  
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning to find her neighbor staring at her from her flat.  
“Good evening, Agnes,” Hermione greeted the older woman. She was a busy body, a bit rude, but harmless.   
“You don’t come home until 5pm…. its only 4,” she stated.   
“I decided to call it a day, I had a long weekend,” Hermione said through a false smile as she reached for her keys.   
“You didn’t come home this weekend. Were you on holiday?” Agnes pressed. Even though she wanted to tell the other woman to mind her own business, Hermione continued to smile as she unlocked her door.  
“I was visiting a friend,” she said, relieved to hear the tumblers click and the door unlock.  
“There were owls again.” Agnes’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Hermione. “They sit on your balcony rail. Are you feeding them? You shouldn’t be feeding them. They make a lot of noise and it is hard to sleep with those infernal owls always hooting through the night.”  
“I’m sorry to hear that, Agnes. I’ll have to do some research, maybe one of my plants attracts them.” Hermione pushed the door open and quickly stepped inside. “Have a good evening, Agnes!” she called before she closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh of relief.  
The owls. Her unplanned weekend away meant that she hadn’t left notice to stop the owl post. She was going to have to be more mindful in the future. It wouldn’t do to get her neighbors suspicions up. Agnes rarely left her flat and was always watching and listening.   
Hermione dropped her keys into the basket near the door and kicked off her shoes. The plush carpet beneath her feet felt welcoming as she put her belongings away and headed towards her bedroom. The heat was still unbearable, and the walk home had left her a sweaty mess.   
She reached for her wand and cast a cooling charm over her flat before stepping into her ensuite.   
The building was new and modern with built in wardrobes and large master bathrooms. It was the large tiled shower that sold Hermione on the flat. With multiple shower heads and a steam feature, it was quite luxurious. There was also a large soaker tub the was situated in front of a picture window that allowed you to see out, but no one could see in.   
Hermione turned on the shower and slipped out of her clothes, tossing them into the hamper in the corner. With a sigh of pleasure, she stepped beneath the cool spray and showered away the day and the sweat, cooling her body and soothing her mind.   
Feeling human once more she toweled off and slipped into a cotton shift that laded mid-thigh. She clipped her wet curls atop her head and made her way to the kitchen.  
She pulled a cold bottle of ale from her ice-box, popping the top before taking a drink. She perused the contents of her refrigerator, un-inspired she shut the door and reached for the pantry door.  
She just wasn’t in the mood for food, so she reached for a package of microwave pop-corn instead. In just a few, quick minutes she was heading to her lounge with her beer in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. She wanted to do nothing but lay on her sofa and watch the television so that she didn’t have to think about anything.  
As she sat her drink and her snack on the coffee table, she heard a knock at the door. Puzzled, she accio’d her wand. No one knew where she lived outside of Harry and Ron and a few very close friends. None of whom would show up unannounced.   
Of course, it could be Agnes come to complain more about the owls.   
Carefully Hermione slid the cover from the spy-hole and peered out into the corridor.  
“What in the hell?” she muttered as she spotted a tall, cloaked figure standing outside her door.  
“I know you are in there, Hermione, please open the door.” She recognized Lucius’s voice immediately and unlocked the door, yanking it open with both relief and curiosity.  
“Lucius?” she queried, still a bit shocked at seeing him outside her door.  
“Yes, how do you do this evening?” he asked.   
“What are you doing here?” she asked.   
“At the moment I am being spied on from the domicile across the way. A rather nosy individual opened their door slightly, apparently under the assumption that I would not hear or notice. When I looked that direction, they slammed the door,” he said glancing back at the door in question. “They are watching us from the spy-hole currently. Most certainly a muggle”  
“That’s Agnes,” Hermione muttered softly. “My neighbor.”  
“I see. Well, Agnes is incredibly rude,” Lucius stated loud and firm, ensuring that Agnes heard him. “It’s impolite to spy on one’s neighbors.”  
“Well, she is older, and I don’t think she has anything else to do,” Hermione whispered. “Come inside before she calls the police!”   
It was bad enough that Lucius was in her building, the last thing she wanted was muggle law enforcement crawling all over the place.   
“Thank you, I have been wanting to speak with you,” he said. With one last, irritated glance over his shoulder he crossed the threshold into her flat and waited as she closed the door.  
“You could have sent an owl! How did you even find where I live?” she asked as she locked the door and cast a silencing charm over the flat to keep Agnes from trying to listen at the door.  
“I am still on the board of governors within the ministry. I sent my steward to the records office with a request, I told them it was urgent regarding the next year’s funding,” he said as he walked around her flat.  
“That is a serious abuse of power, Lucius,” she said, annoyed. She was going to have to have a talk with the records office about confidentiality.   
“Really?” As he pushed the hood of the cloak back Hermione could see that he was mocking her. His brow was arched high and his smirk asked are you shocked?   
“What are you doing here?” she asked, watching as he slipped the cloak off and tossed it over the back of a dining chair.  
“As I said, I wanted to speak to you,” he replied, continuing his exploration of her flat.   
“About?” she asked, arms folded across her chest. She was already feeling defensive and he hadn’t even said anything yet!  
“Us,” he said off handedly as he stopped in the doorway to her kitchen and looked around. “It’s small. But it is clean, and your furnishings look to be of decent quality. Not my tastes, but livable.” He turned when he heard her frustrated sigh and realized he had irritated her.   
He liked that.   
He liked seeing her cheeks flushed with annoyance.   
Seeing her flustered and agitated by him made him feel almost like his old self again. Almost.   
“There is no us, Lucius. We spent the weekend together, we had some fun, released a bit of stress, that’s it,” she said firmly. “And you don’t live here, so your opinion of my flat and its furnishings is of no consequence.”  
“I am entitled to my opinion,” he stated. “Why do you live in a muggle building? Your neighbor is a nosy bint who may notice that you are not what you seem.”  
“Because I’m comfortable living in the muggle world. I was raised in the muggle world if you recall. Besides, no one in the muggle world knows of my role in the war and I am left alone,” she answered. “As for my neighbor, its not an issue, I don’t perform magic in the corridor.”   
Hermione suddenly froze, a sense of dread forming low in her tummy.  
“Lucius, you didn’t apparate into my building, did you?” she asked nervously. He looked up from the bookcase he had been perusing and glared at her.  
“I am not an imbecile, Hermione. I am not ignorant of muggles or their ways; I just don’t particularly like them. I would never be so careless as to apparate into a muggle building where anyone might see me.” He reached for the frog closure at the neck of his robes and quickly rid himself of the garment, tossing it atop his cloak and leaving him standing in front of her in shirt, waistcoat and trousers. “I came via portkey to a local establishment, from there I hailed a taxi where I paid muggle currency for my ride, then I used the lift in your lobby to reach your floor. I can assure you, no magic was used nor did I do anything that might draw the attention of Edna across the hall.”  
“Agnes,” Hermione corrected, relaxing slightly. “And you don’t have to do anything to draw her attention. She spies on everyone, though she isn’t used to seeing men outside my flat. Especially men wearing hooded cloaks in the middle of a scorching summer.”  
“Yes, well, I don’t wish to be ogled,” he said quietly.  
Hermione saw the quick flash of sadness in his eyes and felt her ire begin to fade. She walked closer to where he stood and leaned against the back of a chair.   
“Can I get you something to drink? I can put the kettle on, or perhaps a glass of wine?” she offered. She saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly as he turned to her.  
“Somehow I doubt that you have a vintage that would suit my tastes.”  
“Snob,” she huffed, shaking her head.   
“Yes, proudly,” he stated. “Did you receive the flowers that I sent?”  
“You know that I did.” She knew that Lucius would have ensured that he was informed of the moment they were delivered. “They were lovely, thank you.”  
“It seems that I can quite get you off of my mind,” he said, his head tilted slightly as he stared at her curiously. It was as if he were trying to figure out what was going on inside her. “You left without saying goodbye.”  
“You were sleeping, and I needed to get to work.” It was a flimsy excuse and only partially true. She didn’t want to speak to him. She didn’t want to dissect what had happened between them.  
“I found your hasty and rather rude departure rather vexing. Which in and of itself has me feeling a bit discombobulated.” He reached out and touched a damp curl that had escaped her clip and dangled at her neck. “It has been a very long time since I found myself longing for anyone’s company.”  
“Are you trying to say that you missed me?” she asked, smiling despite herself. Somehow, she found it amusing that a man like Lucius might miss her.  
“I don’t know, to be honest. Maybe I did, or maybe I just wasn’t finished with you yet,” he said low, his fingertips brushing the side of her neck.   
“It was just sex,” she said, fighting the urge to close her eyes and lean into his touch.   
“Maybe it was, but somehow it made me feel…redeemed.” He felt her pulse kick beneath his fingertips and knew that she felt it too.  
What they shared HAD been different. Special.  
“I see, so a weekend of shagging felt like redemption? And now you are here in my flat in the middle of the day seeking what? Absolution? Are you going to get on your knees and pray for forgiveness of your sins?”   
“I don’t think all the holy water on the planet is enough to absolve me of my sins,” he chuckled. “I’m not much of a praying man, but if getting on my knees is what you desire…” Lucius licked his lips and slowly lowered himself to his knees before her.   
“What are you about?” she asked, he head spinning slightly. She braced her hands on the back of the chair to steady herself.   
“How exactly should I pray?” he asked softly, his hands sliding along her legs to the hem of her nightgown. “What tribute should I offer for forgiveness?”   
He slid his hands along her thighs, the short gown catching at his wrists and bunching up as he slid higher. It didn’t take much before the neatly trimmed triangle of her mons was revealed to him.   
“Lucius…” she whimpered his name as he leaned forward and blew gently at the curls guarding her sex.   
“Open,” he rasped, shuffling forward on his knees so that he was closer, close enough to breathe her in. With one hand he held the cotton nightgown in place, with the other he urged her leg up and over his shoulder.   
With gentle fingers he parted the folds of her quim and leaned forward so that she could feel the heat of his breath against her most sensitive flesh. With agonizing slowness, he tickled the inner folds with the tip of his tongue. Up one side, down the other. He dipped low, lightly circling the opening to her core sampling the tangy honey that was beginning to flow.   
She was panting, heat began to spread through her as he teased her with his tongue. She felt the urge to squirm, to thread her fingers through his hair and push her hips forward, forcing him to lick harder, deeper. But if she let go of the chair, she feared she would fall, and that would mean him removing his devilish tongue.  
“Sweet,” he murmured against her flesh, the vibration of the word echoed throughout her pelvis and she felt the strong clench of desire low in her belly.   
“More,” she pleaded, looking down and locking eyes with him.   
While she couldn’t see his mouth, hidden as it was, she could feel his arrogant smile of triumph just before he set out to destroy her senses.   
Any intentions of leaving their weekend tryst behind her went up in flames as Lucius proceeded with his salacious tongue lashing. All the reasons for why getting involved with him was a mistake seemed to vanish as his lips and tongue devoured her.   
Coherent thought was impossible as he carefully sought out all the secret points that conspired together to push her closer to oblivion. He lapped at the tight bud that was her clit, careful of his pressure, cautious of being too direct.  
He seemed to know exactly what he was doing and what it was doing to her!  
As the heat built and that tight band of sensation deep inside her began to pull tighter and tighter he doubled his efforts, sliding his finger gently inside her and stroking slowly along the sleek walls of her vagina.   
When she was crying out, begging for him, he wrapped his lips around the little pearl and suckled gently. Hermione cried out as that band of sensation snapped within her. Her hands released the chair and clutched his head, holding him to her as orgasm pulsed through her. 

She was shaking, her legs would have folded beneath her had Lucius not grabbed her and held her still as he continued to lick at her until the pulsing ceased.   
With her hands tangled in his hair she pulled his head back and stared down at him. His lips were wet, shining with the slickness from between her thighs. His eyes were heavy as he looked up at her with abject desire. Nothing had ever been more intoxicating than the look of want in his eyes.   
She slid her leg from his shoulder and gave into the weakness, falling to her knees astride him.   
“That was amazing,” she whispered as she kissed him. “You could be a professional.”  
“Then my witch is pleased?” He grasped her hips and rocked her against the erection tenting his trousers.   
“I’m not your witch.” She responded, her body shuddering at the feel of him rubbing against her sensitive sex.   
“Don’t be so sure about that!” he reached between them and quickly undid his trousers, moving them out of the way hastily. In seconds he was seated fully inside her.  
With his hands clutching her bottom he began to guide her at a hard and fast pace. As she moved above him, he was thrusting forward, his strokes were long and hard, as if he were desperate to leave his mark on and in her.   
Hermione held on to him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, pressed tight against his chest as she tried to catch his rhythm, but it was impossible. The best she could do was hold on for the ride.   
It was quick, hard, and explosive as he moved inside her, pressing deep and filling her fully with a ragged groan.   
He held on tightly to her as he fought to catch his breath, his face buried in the side of her neck. She soothed him, gently stroking his hair while he held her. Her mind wanted to pull away from him, to once again admonish their actions, to declare it a mistake.  
But it felt good to be held. To feel the warmth of another body against her. To feel wanted. Needed, even.   
“We have to stop this,” she whispered before she pressed her lips against his scarred temple. Lucius lifted his head and met her gaze.  
“Why?”


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SIX  
Why?   
The word continued to play through her brain as Hermione sat on her bed and dug through a bag of Chinese food that had been delivered. Lucius, now reclining against her headboard with a sheet thrown over his lap, was watching her…waiting.   
“You still haven’t answered my question,” he said, watching as she spread thin paper napkins over her duvet. She took a deep breath, then blew it out through pursed lips while she filled two white plates with noodles and eggrolls.  
“The answer should be fairly obvious,” she said as she passed him a plate. “Fork or chopsticks?”  
“Fork please,” he muttered. “Its improper to be dining in the bed we just had intercourse in.”  
“Get over it, if it bothers you feel free to take your plate to the table, it’s in the other room,” she said as she scooted up beside him to rest against the headboard. She reached for the remote on her bedside table and turned on the television, hoping to distract him from the conversation.   
“Must we?” he asked, snapping his fingers and turning the television off.   
“How did you do that?” she asked, equally annoyed and impressed.  
“You learn a lot over the years,” he responded drolly. “Why do you insist that we must not see each other?”  
“Well, you just answered your own question…partially,” she said, exasperated as she shoved noodles into her mouth with the chopsticks. She chewed slowly, deliberately stalling. It became clear that he was more than willing to wait her out as he spread a paper napkin across his lap, sat up straight and proceeded to eat his noodles so properly that she began laughing. “You are twenty-five years older than me, Lucius.”  
He took a deep breath and finished chewing his food before he delicately wiped his mouth and turned to look at her.  
“Yes, roughly,” he responded, his brows arched high.   
“So, you are closer to Agnes in age than me,” she said.   
“Oh, piffle, Agnes is a muggle, completely different aging process,” he said, waving her off.   
“Alright, I am a muggle too which means that I will age more quickly than a pure-blood or even a half-blood witch,” she explained. “And…and…we are SO different! You say things like piffle, you call sex intercourse…you can’t even relax and eat takeout in bed like a normal person!”   
“Well, some of us have manners,” he said tersely. “It is impolite to speak in a vulgar manner in front of the fairer sex, no matter where they come from. And I beg your pardon, what vernacular would you like for me to use regarding our engagements? And again, I beg your forgiveness for not wishing to dine in the place where I sleep! I’m afraid that my time in Azkaban--where every part of daily living was conducted within the confines of my filthy cell—ruined such normal activities for me!”  
Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten, breathing slowly in and out to calm herself. When she opened her eyes she could see that he had set his plate on the bedside table and was watching her with his hands folded over his abdomen.   
“People won’t understand, Lucius. We have far too much past between us to ever have a future,” she said softly.  
“I’m not proposing marriage, Hermione,” he reached out and brushed his thumb across her lips. “No one need know what is happening between us. It is between us. I enjoy your company. I enjoy your body and if I am not mistaken you enjoy mine as well. Why can’t we just do that for as long as we are both content?”  
She didn’t really have a good answer for him. Truthfully, he was right. There was no reason for anyone to know what was going on between them. It was none of their business. Even though she knew that what he was saying was truth, part of her fought against it.  
“How convenient for you,” she snarked back at him. “You are fine with hiding out in your house all the time, never going out, never participating in the world. How easy for you to have a girlfriend who comes over to shag, who never demands anything of you. You get all the benefit with none of the wooing.”  
“You wish to be wooed?” he queried. “One can woo without going out in public.”  
“Yes, but if I am your…friend with benefits—then how am I to find a partner to make a life with?” she asked.  
“You may say no at any time. I have not forced you, Hermione,” he said. “If you had uttered the word no or pushed me away at any point I would have stopped.”  
He had a way of making her feel guilty for assuming the worst of him.   
“No, I never said that or thought that….”  
“If you met someone that you felt may be the love of your life, I would walk away from our relationship happy for you,” he declared quietly. “We can be friends, can’t we? Friends who share something special?”  
“You don’t make this easy,” she said, sadness beginning to tease at her heart.   
“I’m glad that you see reason,” he said smiling. He knew capitulation when he saw it. “Now…let’s finish this animalistic meal and see what else we can find to do in this bed.”

Lucius crept quietly through Hermione’s bedroom. He dressed in silence as the sun began to peak from the horizon, casting her room in a soft gray light. She was asleep on her stomach, her arms wrapped tightly around a pillow, her hair a tangled mess about her face. He admired the line of her back, the soft unmarred skin that felt like silk beneath his fingertips.   
She slept so soundly, her dreams unmarred by the horrors of the war, of the past. No nightmares of being consumed by fire, of hearing the piercing screams of agony as someone she loved was burned alive.   
How he envied her peace.   
He leaned over and lightly kissed her shoulder. She wriggled slightly against the sheets but did not wake.   
He made his way to her lounge and retrieved his cloak and robes from her chair, donning them and pulling the hood up before he let himself out, careful to turn the lock on the knob.   
Once in the hall he stopped, the sound of a door cracking open catching his attention.   
“Good Morning….Edna?” he taunted, turning to face the neighbors door. A silent barring spell prevented her from shutting the door and she began to panic at being unable to hide her “spying. “I assure you, I left her alive and sleeping soundly inside. There really is no need for you to watch her comings and going or mine for that matter.”  
“Well, I never!” she snapped, still attempting to close the door.  
“Apparently you do. Every day. Have you nothing better to do with your time than watch your neighbors?” Lucius asked as he pressed the call button for the lift.   
“The building’s safety is everyone’s business!” she huffed, still trying to close the door.   
“Ah, but its not safety that has you watching her, is it?” he smiled when he heard the bell indicating the lift had arrived and waited for the doors to open. As he stepped inside he bowed his head slightly at the older woman in a worn housecoat watching him with irritation. “Good day, Edna.”

As the doors closed her heard her snap, “It’s Agnes!”, followed by the slamming of her door.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER SEVEN

AUTUMN—  
Hermione pulled her jacket more tightly around her as she made her way through the gates on the Malfoy Estate. After months of being in a sexual and somewhat friendly relationship with the Estate’s owner, the wards had finally been altered to allow her easy passage.   
Of course it would be great if he would just give her floo access, but she suspected that he enjoyed putting her through the torture of climbing the hill, navigating the maze and walking the expansive distance to his house.   
“At least its pretty,” she muttered as she enjoyed the colorful foliage of the trees. The property had received some recent attention as Lucius had brought on a few new servants. Hermione took a bit of pride in that, feeling that perhaps being with her had improved his disposition, perhaps made him care a bit more. Dare she say that he was happy?  
As she crossed the front garden she saw two young house-elves feeding the small fish and frogs that lived in the fountain. Her recollection was that they were Star and Comet. They both stood up straight to greet her eagerly, straightening the burlap tunics that read “onion” and “potato”. She would have to speak to Lucius about his servants attire.   
“Good afternoon, Ms. Granger!” they greeted happily.   
“Hello, Star…Comet,” she replied, praying she remembered correctly. “Where might I find Mr. Malfoy this evening?”  
“Lord Malfoy is in the stables,” Comet answered, gesturing down the hill to the stable. Hermione saw Lucius standing in the center of a paddock and her heart skipped a beat.   
Snug doeskin jodhpurs hugged his thighs and backside.   
Tall black boots ended just below his knees.  
A loose white shirt was tucked into his waist, the ties at the throat were open and the sleeves rolled to his elbow.   
His hair was tied back, low at the nape of his neck, something she hadn’t seen him do before as it revealed his scars.   
In his left hand was a leather crop and, in his right, a long lead that was attached to a beautiful Snowy white mare that was dancing around him.  
She watched him for several minutes as he led the horse around the paddock, using the crop to direct her through various dressage maneuvers. When he was done, he examined her carefully, stroking her gently as he murmured to her, soothing her.   
And then, to Hermione’s great surprise the horse clasped the ribbon in his hair with her teeth and pulled it free.   
And Lucius laughed.   
He laughed loud and he laughed long, stroking the naughty horse lovingly as he did.   
It was like a siren song, Hermione couldn’t resist it as she headed towards the stable, eager to be apart of the happiness and to see it up close.  
“And who is this?” Hermione asked as she stepped up to the fence and folded her arms along the top.  
“This is Guinevere…she is going to be Arthur’s queen! Aren’t you, girl?” he led the horse to where Hermione stood and reached into a bucket for an apple to feed her. “How are you, today?” he asked Hermione gently before he leaned in to kiss her cheek.   
“I’m well, thank you…you’re going to breed Arthur?” she asked incredulously as she reached up to stroke the mare’s nose.   
“I thought I might,” he said, shrugging sheepishly. “An old acquaintance reached out, said he had a beautiful girl that he thought I would want to see. Turns out he was right, she is stunning. She and Arthur will make beautiful foals.”  
“I’m so happy for you! I can’t wait to see the babies when they come! Does Arthur like her?” she asked.  
As if on cue Arthur appeared at the other side of the gate. He began to neigh and dance around on the other side, showing off for the new girl in school.  
“He seems to know that she is for him,” Lucius chuckled. “Guinevere, however, is not easily impressed. She continues to play coy…but I think she will warm up to him once she is in season.”  
“You look happy,” Hermione said softly. “I’ve never heard you laugh.”  
“I suppose there hasn’t been much call to laugh for a long while now,” he said. “Did you see Draco on your way in? He was just here with Scorpius.”  
“No…Lucius, does Draco know about us?” Hermione asked nervously. Lucius watched her expression change to one of panic.  
“No, Hermione. I have not discussed our relationship with my son. I simply wondered if you had passed him in transit,” he said sadly as he led Guinevere towards the gate.   
His gamekeeper met him and accepted the lead, taking the horse into the stable to be groomed and stalled for the night. Lucius reached for his wand to clean his hands as he walked towards Hermione.   
“Your expression was telling,” he said softly as he approached her. “I had thought that after these few months together that perhaps something changed.”  
“What do you mean?” she asked, suddenly overcome by guilt and she wasn’t sure why.  
“We have been seeing each other since summer. Based on the fact that we spend every weekend and most nights during the week together, I feel that I can safely assume we are seeing each other exclusively. We spend hours talking, getting to know each other…I thought that perhaps what we shared went deeper than sex.”  
“I didn’t mean…”  
“Didn’t mean to what? Act horrified at the thought that someone might find out that you have sullied yourself cavorting with the evil beast that is Lucius Malfoy?” he asked, his tone a mixture of sadness and ire.  
“No, that’s not…that’s not what I meant,” she stammered. His words had her flustered and confused. She was searching for a response, but it seemed that he wasn’t going to give her a moment to compose herself.  
“I know what you meant. You’re a hypocrite, Hermione. You lay beside me, the smell of me all over you, inside of you, and you claim that you don’t care what people think. You tell me it doesn’t matter what people say, what their opinion may be of you and I together,” he said, watching her face closely. He could see the flush of embarrassment fill her cheeks, could see how her eyes darted and her teeth tugged at her lip. She knew he was right. “Do you think that I didn’t notice how you never wanted to go anywhere with me? How all of our dinners and time together was spent in either my house or yours?”  
“But you don’t like to go in public! You don’t like to be seen…”  
“There were places we could go, things we could do that didn’t involve being in the wizarding community. We have magic at our fingertips, Hermione, the world is ours for the taking. But the chance that someone might see us, might find out about us sends you into a panic.”  
“We agreed that this would be private…didn’t we?” she pressed defensively.  
“Perhaps, when this first started and it was all about sex. I can agree that it seemed more practical that no one know,” he said. “But, when it became obvious that sex wasn’t the only thing between us…when you would sleep the night in my arms without sex entering the equation…that changed things. At least it changed things for me.”  
“Oh, come on! Lucius, this is silly,” Hermione huffed in confused irritation. What had happened? How had this conversation come about? Why was he being like this?  
“Silly?” Lucius pursed his lips and nodded his head slowly, as if he suddenly understood something that she didn’t.   
“Why are you upset with me? Because I was worried that your son knew about us? I didn’t want to be blindsided by an ‘outing’ of our relationship, how does that make me the bad guy?”  
“Do any of your friends know that you are seeing someone? Your parents? Your work colleagues? Does anyone, other than Agnes, know that I exist in your life?” he asked.  
“No, but I don’t talk about such things with them.”  
“What things? Things like the man who makes you happy? The man who shares your thoughts and discusses your views? The man who sleeps beside you nearly every night? The man who took care of you when you were sick? The man who rubbed your back when you had your woman’s time?” Lucius unlocked the paddock and stepped outside, closing the gate and re-locking it. “No, I guess those things are not important enough to share with those we…love.”  
Hermione felt trapped. She was being backed into a corner, forced to contemplate things she wasn’t ready to or didn’t want to consider. She had anticipated spending yet another weekend of quiet bliss in the arms of her unlikely lover. She wanted to feel that beautiful silence, the mindless pleasure she found in his arms. The quiet of a world they created for them alone.   
She hadn’t expected him to pick a fight. She wasn’t prepared and she wasn’t exactly the best person to catch unaware.   
“Are you trying to say you love me, Lucius?” she queried, almost sneering at him. “What do you know about love?”  
The sadness that filled his eyes was like a punch to the gut. She regretted the words the moment she said them. Lucius reached for her wrist and raised it slowly, pressing a soft kiss to the center of her palm before laying it along the side of his face where the pink, twisted scars marred his skin.  
“I know more than you could ever imagine,” he said softly before he dropped her wrist and walked away, leaving her alone as her eyes filled with tears.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Eight

Christmas—Weasley-Potter House

Hermione sat alone in an overstuffed chair tucked into the corner of Harry and Ginny’s lounge. She stared out into the crowded room, watching the children and general chaos that comes with a Weasley gathering. This year Harry had finally convinced the Dursley’s to join them, including Dudley’s wife and children who seemed completely overwhelmed at the sight of magical children dueling and flying about.  
She wanted to laugh. She wanted to join in the festivities but didn’t. She couldn’t.   
She missed him. Damn it.   
He hadn’t tried to contact her since he walked away from her in the fall. Since she had, with her smart mouth and anger, accused him of being incapable of love. The man who had been disfigured for life trying to save the woman he loved.   
And why? Because he appeared to have feelings for her that he wanted to share. That he wanted to be open about.   
How many times had she sat and listened to women complain about emotionally unavailable men? Men who wouldn’t commit, who didn’t want to “put a label” on it?  
And here she was. A man had made himself emotionally available to her. He had let her see his vulnerability, something that she knew was no small thing with Lucius.   
And she had spit in his face.   
“Why am I like this?” she asked herself quietly. She had asked before, but still didn’t have the answer.   
Though, she hadn’t reached out either. Pride was her greatest sin. Even though she knew she was wrong, knew that it had been SHE who hurt him, she was still unable to bring herself to reach out to him. To apologize for the way things ended up.  
“Like what?”  
Hermione jumped at the sound of the voice beside her. She turned to find George standing beside her chair holding out a glass of wine for her.   
“George! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come up,” she said, reaching for the glass.  
“You don’t seem to hear much of anything, lately,” he said as he settled on the arm of the chair. “You’re here, you’re watching but you aren’t listening. Sounds like whatever is going on inside your head is louder than anything going on out here.”

“Am I that obvious?” she asked, sighing into her glass before taking a sip.  
“Everyone notices a difference, but no one wants to say anything to you,” he said softly, smiling. “They are afraid of making you angry and you’re scary when you’re angry.”  
“You don’t seem very afraid.”  
“Well, I’ve had a lot of egg nog and little bit to smoke, so I’m not easy to spook in this condition,” he said with a wink as he leaned in and draped his arm along the back of the chair behind her. “So, who is he?”  
“Oh…um…I don’t…”  
“Don’t lie to me, Hermione. No one looks like this on Christmas unless their heart is broken,” he said.  
“He didn’t break my heart,” Hermione snapped. She instantly regretted her words and winced slightly when George laughed.  
“Ha! See, I knew it! Now, tell me what’s up, Hermione. We’ve been friends a very, very long time. You can tell me anything, I won’t judge you and I won’t tell the boys. I promise.”  
She looked at him for several long seconds. Something in her bubbled to the surface and she suddenly wanted to tell him everything. The loneliness she had felt for so long suddenly seemed unbearable. The realization that everyone around her had moved on and as a result she had become reclusive. She didn’t feel as if she ‘fit’ any longer. She didn’t feel as if she had anyone that she could count on, anyone that she could confide in.   
“I’ve been seeing someone since summer,” she said softly.   
“That’s terrific! You’ve been alone far too long,” he said, tugging gently on one of her curls. “When do we get to meet him?”  
“You know him,” she said quietly. “Not under the best circumstances…but you know him.”  
George looked at her curiously, his head tilted slightly to the side.   
“Who is it?”  
“Lucius Malfoy,” she whispered.  
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” George exclaimed loudly, nearly falling off the side of the chair.  
“Shhhhh!!” Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, her eyes scanning the room for anyone who may have noticed their interaction. “You promised not to judge!”  
“But…Lucius Malfoy?” he whispered harshly, “How in the bloody hell did that happen?”  
“He’s different,” she said, still looking around for any potential eavesdroppers.   
“He’s Lucius Bloody Malfoy!” George snapped back, shaking his head as if to clear the thought from his mind.  
“He’s…changed,” she said softly. “I don’t know how to explain it, but he has.”  
“How, and I mean this in the most loving way, but how in the bleeding hell did you get messed up with him?” George asked, lowering his voice to match hers.  
“It wasn’t intentional,” she said, sighing as she leaned back in the chair. “I went to see him on business and just…I don’t know. Suddenly we were spending every weekend and most of our week together.”  
“How? The papers would have been all over such a thing and as far as I know there hasn’t been a single story.”  
“We spent our time either at my flat or his house…we didn’t really go out,” she said, her brow furrowing.   
“Oh, I get it…it was just shagging, right? Just a bit of itch scratching?” George said, as if he finally understood. “I totally get that, I went slumming myself a time or two…that Parkinson bint and a couple of other willing slags.”  
“George, I wasn’t “slumming”, I wanted to be with Lucius. I enjoyed my time with him in and out of bed. He made me feel…special.”  
“So…you love him?” he asked incredulously.  
“I don’t know, but I miss him.”  
“What happened? Why aren’t you with him now?”  
George watched the expression on her face as it changed, shifted from sadness to confusion.  
“I’m not really sure. We had agreed from the start that this was just…just something between us. It wasn’t serious, just two people enjoying each other’s company. But in November I went to his house, he asked if I had seen Draco on my way in. I may have overreacted…I was worried about people finding out. Lucius got upset with me and me being me….”  
“You tore his heart out with your words?” George offered.  
“Well…yes, I did.” Hermione frowned and stared up at George. “So this is expected behavior from me?”  
“Listen, Hermione, we all love you, we love you like you were family…” George began.  
“But?” she prompted.   
“But, you are a bit on the pernicious side. You are usually the smartest person in any room and you know it,” he said, reaching out to tug on her curls once more. “The problem is, you make sure that everyone else around you knows it too. You dominate the room and you make people feel small and unimportant when you do.”  
“What?” Hermione felt sick to her stomach as she tried to process what he was saying.  
“You don’t do it on purpose,” he said softly. “You don’t deliberately try to hurt people…but you are rigid. And when you get angry, or defensive your tongue is like a steel blade slicing through whomever you feel threatened by.”  
“Then why does anyone have anything to do with me?” she felt tears of humiliation and anger burning at her eyes.   
He was right. She knew that he was right.  
“Because we love you. And we know that you come from a place of love. We know that you don’t lash out to deliberately.” George reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “So, what did you say to him?”  
“I told him he didn’t know the meaning of love,” she said softly, ashamed.  
“Ouch…”  
“Why didn’t anyone bother to mention this to me? Why hasn’t anyone said something to me before…about my behavior?” she asked.  
“Haven’t they?” he asked. Suddenly her mind filled with memories of her snarky comments, continually correcting people, being called out for being a know-it-all. She remembered every argument that she and Ron had struggled through during their relationship. She had picked at him, corrected him, constantly turning every argument back on him so that it was him in the wrong and never her. And then, at the very end he had walked away, his parting words saying it all. “It doesn’t matter, Love. No matter what I do, I’m wrong anyway.”  
“My god, I’m a complete bitch,” she said softly, more to herself than to George.  
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said. “But perhaps its time to think about trying to change?”  
“Am I capable of change?”  
“If Lucius Malfoy, as you claim, can change…anyone can.”


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER NINE

WILTSHIRE—CHRISTMAS

Lucius sat in his chair before the fire and watched his grandson play with a wooden carriage and horses. It was uncanny how much he looked like Draco. Lucius felt a tug at his stomach as he watched him.   
“Do you like horses, Scorpius?” Lucius asked as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Big silver eyes smiled up at him as the little boy reacted to being addressed.  
“Yes, sir,” he said with a slight lisp. “One day I’m going to ride a big horse!”  
“Grandad just purchased a new mare, I think that the first stallion should be yours,” Lucius said.  
“Really? I can have a horse? Of my very own?” Scorpius jumped up from the floor and threw his arms around Lucius’s neck. “Thank you, Grandad!”  
Lucius smiled, it felt so good to be hugged by the little boy, to feel the excitement that vibrated through his small body.   
“You’re spoiling him,” Draco said smiling as he settled into the chair opposite his father.   
“No more than I spoiled you,” Lucius responded as he smiled indulgently at his grandchild. “It is time he learned to ride more than a broom. Once we have a mount for him I will expect him to come regularly to learn how to groom and care for his horse. While his horse is growing and training he can ride Majesty to learn.”  
“I must say, it is good to see you out with your horses again,” Draco said as he sipped his drink. “You seem…better.”  
“Better than what?” Lucius asked, his brow arched.  
“Don’t play, Father, you know what I mean,” Draco replied. “Does it have anything to do with the young witch your staff is whispering about?”  
“Bloody servants,” he grumbled as he reached for his drink on the side table. “You would think they would show some loyalty and stop gossiping after all I’ve done to change. I can’t tell you the last time I hurled a curse or hex their way!”  
“Servants gossip, its what they do, nothing changes that. Are you going to tell me about her?” Draco asked.   
“I hadn’t intended to.”  
“Why not, do I know her?”  
“Because she doesn’t want anyone to know about us, that’s why. And…yes. Yes, you do, as it were.” Lucius ran his fingers through his hair and stared into the fire. “She is a very interesting witch.”  
“Why does she want to keep things a secret?” Draco winced when his father turned his stare back on h  
im as if the answer to his question should be obvious. His family had struggled after the war, social pariahs thanks to their relationship with the dark lord. Neither side trusted them, both sides feared them and had alienated them publicly. No one would admit to doing business with or socializing with them. Even forgoing his mother’s funeral after she was brutally attacked and murdered.  
“Her circle wouldn’t approve. Because of who we are and there is a bit of an age difference.”  
“Since when do you care what people think? And how young are we talking here?” Draco asked, suddenly concerned that his father may be dallying with a witch far younger than could be considered appropriate.   
“I guess I don’t care what they think…and she’s young, your age,” he said.   
“I’m not so young anymore,” Draco chuckled. “Do you want people to know about you?”  
Lucius took another drink and thought about the question for a moment. Did he? He was insulted by her reaction to the possibility of his family seeing her. Was he really so awful? Had he not been respectful, kind, even tender with her? Was she embarrassed by his scars?  
“Father, are you in love with her?” Draco asked.   
“I care about her, I miss her. I don’t know if I love her, but I think that I could in time,” Lucius admitted. It was the first time he had really considered his feelings for her beyond how she made him feel physically.   
“So…can it be fixed?”  
“I’m not sure, I suppose it depends on her.”


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER TEN

February-

It was chaos. There is no other word for the hideous spectacle that filled the square outside of the new Ministry of Magic Building. The old building, tainted by the stain of Voldemort and his evil, had been torn down and in its place was a new, pristine building of gleaming white stones and stained glass windows. Each pane was carefully crafted by master artisans to venerate the triumph of good over evil.  
To celebrate yet another step towards the Utopian world that the ministry strived for they decided to hold a Masquerade Ball in the Ministry Square. The entire population of the Wizarding world appeared to be in attendance. Dressed in their finest gowns, their faces hidden behind elaborate masks. Everyone that was anyone was in attendance and even though Hermione loathed such events she felt compelled to go, confident in the anonymity the mask afforded.  
Hermione sighed as yet another body knocked into her, jostling her hard enough that the drink in her hand sloshed over the rim of her glass to mar the pristine satin of her gown. She swore softly and reached inside her cloak, withdrawing her wand to discreetly remove the stain.  
“Tsk, tsk, the use of unnecessary magic on ministry grounds is forbidden.” Hermione stiffened.   
The voice taunting was familiar, she hadn’t heard it in months and goodness knew that she had missed it.  
As trumpets sounded, heralding the start of the dedication, the crowd pressed tighter together. Bodies of strangers pressed in on every side and Hermione felt the anxiety begin to rise.   
“You like to break the rules, don’t you?” the voice spoke to her again, this time close enough that she could feel warm breath on the back of her neck.   
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I can’t imagine you feeling very celebratory, all things considered.”  
“Au contraire, my dear,” the voice chuckled softly, “who do you think funded this building?”   
Hermione closed her eyes and made a soft noise of irritation at his arrogance.  
“Lucius.”   
“In the flesh,” Lucius drawled. She could almost hear the smirk in his voice. She did not need to turn around to verify, her body knew him and responded.   
“Why? You don’t like to appear in public.”  
“Call it an…apology,” he said, edging closer yet to her. “I am still seeking redemption.  
“You cannot buy redemption, it has to be earned.”  
“Tell that to the ministry officials. My name will now grace the halls of the department of Finance,” he said. “The Lucius Malfoy Building is my reparation, as it were, for being—shall we say—a naughty boy?”  
“A naughty boy?” Hermione scoffed. “Is that what you call being an egomaniacal, elitist, racist, murdering, leacherous…”  
“You say tomato, I say tom-ah-to….it’s all semantics, my dear.” He smiled, he had missed this.   
“Ha! Just like a Malfoy to blow off their involvement,” she said, shifting as best she could in the press of the crowd.   
“Oh, I doubt that being naughty is a Malfoy trait alone,” he said, the timber of his voice deepening as he leaned closer to her ear. “Don’t you ever feel naughty, Hermione?”  
“That is none of your business,” she said through clenched teeth.  
“Perhaps,” he said softly. “It was, not so long ago and it could be again, if you let it.”  
“Aren’t you a little old to be flirting with young witches,” she growled at him, swearing softly when a sudden cheer sent the crowd shifting and tossed Hermione backwards, directly into the man who was taunting her.   
“The silver threading through my hair means nothing,” he whispered as his hand settled at her waist. “I am still very much in my prime.”  
“Let me go.”  
“Calm yourself, I mean you no harm.” The hand on her waist slid down to the curve of her hip and held her firmly.   
“You never reached out to me, its been nearly three months,” she accused.  
“You never reached out to me, either. Where have you been?” he asked, moving closer to her.  
“I was in therapy,” she said, shivering as she felt his breath against her ear. “It was brought to my attention that I can be a pernicious bitch.”  
“And has therapy changed you?” he asked, fighting his laughter. Oh, how he would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when that conversation occurred!   
“I’m working on it,” she said turning her head to the side and catching sight of him in her peripheral vision. He was wearing a white mask covering half of his face, a cloak pulled up over his head. “I’ve missed you.”  
“I have missed you, as well.” He said quietly as he pressed a kiss just below her ear.   
“I owe you an apology.”  
“I don’t want your apology,” he said as he pressed himself fully along her back.   
“What do you want?” she asked as she felt his hands slide beneath her cloak.   
“You. Any way that I can have you,” he growled.   
Hermione shivered when she felt the cold metal of his snakehead cane against her spine. The soft scratching of the fangs on either side of her spine as he dragged it downward had heat pooling low in her pelvis.   
“Follow me,” she whispered hoarsely as she pushed forward in the crowd. She led him through the tightly packed bodies, pushing her way to the edge of the crowd. Once she was in the shadows of the building she led him towards the entrance, flashing her wand at the security guard protecting the door.   
Lucius followed her inside, his eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness of the corridor as he trailed her. She turned and slipped through an arched doorway, disappearing up a spiraling metal staircase. They exited on an upper floor and stepped out into the corridor where she led him to a door at the end.   
“This is my office,” she said softly as she tapped her wand against the knob. He heard the lock click, then followed her inside.   
Hermione removed her cloak and tossed it onto the small settee along the wall along with the ornate mask that had covered her eyes. Lucius followed suit, watching her as she made her way to the large window across the room.  
“There are so many people here,” she said softly as she stared out at the crowd of people in the courtyard.   
Lucius removed his dress robes and tossed it atop his cloak and mask before joining her at the window. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands pressing against her stomach as he pulled her back into him.  
“There is no one but us,” he whispered in her ear.   
“Lucius,” she sighed his name as his warmth wrapped around her. How did she feel safe in his arms? How did it come to pass that Lucius Malfoy felt like home? “Where have you been?”  
“I was trying to get over you,” he said honestly. “But obviously that didn’t work.”  
“How will we manage this? How will we explain…” He stopped her by tightening his arms around her.  
“Let’s worry about that when we have to,” he said. “For now…I’m here, Hermione. I came into a public venue for you. I actually spoke to people, endured their stares and false smiles. I am yours, every scarred, evil inch of me belongs to you. Do with me as you will.”  
Hermione let his words wash over it, let it soak into her and drown out the voice in her head that wanted to analyze, plan and think through the logistics of it all until her brain hurt. She pressed her hands to the glass, closed her eyes and pressed her bottom back into him with a little roll of her hips.   
“And I am yours,” she said, sighing as his hand slid up to cup her breast.   
“I need you,” he growled in her ear, pressing his erection into her backside. “I know we need to talk…but damn me if I can think of anything other than being inside you.”  
With one hand Hermione reached down and began to tug her dress upwards, gathering the length of it around her waist. She wasn’t wearing pants so as not to ruin the line of her dress, only a thin pair of black stockings that gripped her thighs with lace bands.   
“Talk later,” she whispered. She felt his hands fumbling behind her with the fall of his trousers, then with one hand he gripped her hip, lifting her onto her toes as he adjusted his stance and used his other hand to guide the tip of his erection against her damp folds. In seconds he was buried as deep as possible inside her. The overwhelming sensation had her resting her forehead against the glass and him sliding his arm around her to support the position.   
“Someone is going to see us,” he groaned, not really caring but concerned for her comfort.   
“Let them see,” she replied, whimpering as his hand slid beneath the crumpled dress at her waist so that his thumb could toy with the pearl between her folds. He moved slowly, carefully so that they didn’t topple over, the slow drag of his cock inside her driving them both higher.   
“Hermione…I don’t want to ruin the mood, but I’m not as young as I used to be…” Lucius growled as his legs protested the awkward position. Hermione laughed, and looked over her shoulder.   
“Trade me places,” she panted. Lucius slipped from inside her and followed her lead as she guided him to sit on the wooden ledge of the window. She quickly climbed astride him and positioned herself, lowering onto his shaft slowly.   
Lucius tugged the bodice of her dress down to reveal her breasts. He watched as they bounced and swayed with her movements, mesmerized. He leaned forward, capturing one of the turgid tips between his lips, sucking and licking at it as her tempo increased.   
The window behind them began to fog. Hermione braced one hand against the cool glass and cupped the back of his neck with the other as she began to ride him faster, harder. Grinding against him as that tight band in her belly twisted more.  
“Lucius,” she whispered his name, drawing his eyes up to lock with hers as they neared the edge. Then, as if the band had snapped, release washed over her. Her body trembled atop him. He could feel the contractions deep within her and followed, filling her with his essence as they clung together.   
Panting, covered in sweat, their clothes sticking to them; they held each other tight. Lucius leaned back against the window, bracing his feet on the rug so that he didn’t slide from the ledge as they fought to regain their composure.   
“I’m fairly certain that we are in violation of some Ministry code,” Lucius muttered as he looked around her office and contemplated their location.   
“Don’t care,” she mumbled against the side of his neck, too exhausted to really think about it.   
“This window is cold,” he complained, but he made no move to get up or to let her go. She laughed softly and lifted her head to smile at him.  
“You know, you’ve complained about being in public, that people might see us, that your legs are too old to shag standing up, that we broke ministry rules and now you are cold? Are you trying to make yourself not sexy?”  
“Clearly it doesn’t bother you,” he said arrogantly as he gave her bottom a little smack. “It appears that it takes a bit more than a little complaining and a few scars to reduce my sex appeal.”  
“Your arrogance is returning,” she snorted as she shifted off of his lap and began to set her dress to rights.   
“You can blame yourself for that,” he replied, reaching for his wand to restore his appearance. “Had you not forced your way into my home and turned my life upside down I would probably still be hiding away inside my house. But here I am, fornicating in a government building and even talking to people I don’t like, all for you.”  
Hermione smiled softly and stepped closer, laying her hand on his scarred cheek.   
“It means the world to me that you are here,” she said just before she lifted onto her toes and kissed him gently. “I…I love you.”  
“And I you,” he responded before pulling her close and kissing her deeply.   
“What now?” she asked when they finally pulled apart.  
“I guess we will have to see.”


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Current Day—

Lilith stared up at her grandmother, her cheeks flushed and her eyes a bit teary as she absorbed the story of her grandparents and their love affair.   
“Oh my, Nana,” she sighed. “It’s so…romantic!”  
Hermione laughed out loud, her laughter echoed off of the walls.   
“Oh, it was hardly romantic,” Hermione chuckled. “Our life together has been like a hurricane from the moment we met. We were enemies who fought against each other in the war, and somehow, we became partners who have cared for and supported each other through the trials of life. It has been a crazy ride for your grandad and I but I wouldn’t change it.”  
“What happened when people found out?” Lilith asked, her eyes shining in eager anticipation.  
“Well, Harry and the Weasley’s reacted as you might expect—aside from George. But in time they came around, though your grandad didn’t make it easy. And your uncle Draco…well, I never thought he would stop laughing. I had known him since age eleven and never saw him laugh like that before or since,” Hermione said shaking her head.  
“And after he came for you at the ball…what happened?”   
“We went away for a bit to the Chalet your grandfather has in Switzerland. About six weeks later we discovered that your mum, Drusilla, was on the way,” Hermione smiled softly.  
“Oh! I found this…its your wedding picture isn’t it?” Lillith pulled a photograph from the stack she held and passed it to Hermione. It showed her and Lucius on their wedding day, her belly swollen and their faces alight with love and happiness. “That must be mum,” Lilith said as she pointed to Hermione’s pregnant belly in the photo.  
“Actually…that is your uncle, Jack,” Hermione chuckled. “Your mum was born on the wrong side of the blanket I’m afraid.”   
Lilith's face flushed slightly.  
“Your grandad of course wanted to marry immediately upon discovering that your mum was on her way, in fact he insisted upon it. But, me being…well, me…I refused. In fact, I kept refusing up until I was but a few hours away from delivering Jack.” Hermione had accepted long ago that there were just some things about herself that would never change. “Stubbornness is something that runs deeply on both sides of your family, Lilith. Your grandad and I have perfected the art of being stubborn.”  
“I hope you aren’t filling my darling granddaughter’s head with nonsense.” Hermione smiled as she heard her husbands voice fill the air.  
“She found some photographs, she wanted to hear our love story,” Hermione said, slowly turning her head to see Lucius walking towards her. He was older now, his blond hair now snowy white and a little thinner. He walked slowly, but with the same proud and arrogant posture as when he was young.   
“Oh dear, isn’t she a bit young for such violent tales?” he teased with a wink. He reached down and ran his hand over Lilith's hair affectionately. “Hello, Sweet Girl, how are you?”   
“Hello, Grandad,” she replied, smiling up at him. “I’m a grown witch, you know. Perfectly capable of understanding things.”   
“You smell like your horses,” Hermione chided as Lucius reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.   
“I was in the stables all afternoon,” he said quietly. “It’s late, are you ready for bed?” he asked.  
“Yes, my love,” she answered, she turned back to Lilith to finish her story. “So, to finish; I did marry your grandfather just before Jack was born. And two years after that we had your uncle William. I eventually gave up my position at the ministry to be home with the children and do research. Lucius continued with his businesses and raised his horses. We argue a lot. But we laugh a lot, and we talk a lot and we have loved a lot. Eventually the public came to terms with our marriage, and over time we rebuilt the west tower in honor of Narcissa Malfoy—your uncle Draco’s mum.”  
“I hope that I have a love story like yours one day,” she sighed.   
“I hope you will not give the wizard who loves you as difficult a time as your Nana did me,” Lucius chuckled as he helped Hermione to stand.   
“You wouldn’t love me nearly as much had I been easy,” Hermione teased as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder. Lucius kissed her softly and held her tight. “Ready?”  
“Yes,” she said softly. “Goodnight, Lilith.”  
“Goodnight, Nana and Grandad, I love you,” she said, her heart warming as she watched her grandfather disapparate with her grandmother in his arms.   
All her life she had watched them, observed the love between them with such awe. They loved each other so deeply and they loved their family with such devotion that just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes.   
Lilith knew that she was young and still a romantic at heart, and she knew that while their relationship made for a lovely story, life had not been easy for the two of them.   
Her grandparents had seen war, sorrow, death, trauma; and it had changed them.   
But they made it. They made a life together and built a legacy together despite it all.  
Lilith was proud to be their granddaughter, proud to be a member of the Malfoy family.


	13. Chapter 13

Epilogue

“Just how much did you tell her?” Lucius asked as he slid beneath the covers next to his wife.

“I told her our story—I may have left out some details even though I remembered them fondly,” she said as she snuggled up next to him.

“Do you have any regrets?” he asked.

“Nary a one…though perhaps I was being a bit stubborn not marrying you before Dru was born,” she conceded.

“I am glad that you finally came to your senses. I am all for you exerting your independence 

however, waiting until you were in labor with our second child did seem to be a bit extreme.” Lucius pulled the blankets tighter around her and kissed the top of her head. “How does the story end?”

“As all good love stories do,” she said softly. “And they lived happily ever after.”


End file.
